


Love Runs Out

by alexkholodova



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, F/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-11 07:03:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4425962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexkholodova/pseuds/alexkholodova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was handsome… Well, that was an understatement of the century actually, he was gorgeous... Tall, muscular, piercing blue eyes, constant five o'clock shadow. The man was basically a God among men. There was just one tiny little problem, he was also her boss…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Felicity has dreamed of working in Queen Consolidated ever since she built her first computer at the age of seven. The company had so much potential, offered so many opportunities. Granted, her whole college career was centered around cyber security and being an executive assistant to the CEO was never a part of the plan, but she was still stoked when she got the offer six months ago. Until she met her boss…

Oh, he was in no way a horrible manager or even a horrible person, although sometimes she wished otherwise. No, Oliver was always attentive, always supportive and overall just a down to earth person. All in all, Oliver Queen was a great guy. There was just one tiny problem: he was handsome… Well, that was an understatement of the century actually, he was _gorgeous_... Tall, muscular, piercing blue eyes, constant five o’clock shadow. The man was basically a God among men. And unfortunately for her, he was also her boss…

By now she was used to the ‘Oliver dreams’ that haunted her. They were never the same as the last one – an action movie on Monday, romantic comedy on Thursday and a horror film on Sunday. Always different, but always starring _him._ It wasn't like she dreamt of him _every_ night… He only appeared in them occasionally… Once a month… Once a week? Well, okay, it was more like every second day, but who could blame her?!

To her defense she wasn't the only one. Each and every assistant was pining over him. Hell, every single female in the building was pining over him. She knew for a fact that even Sara, who was happily engaged to Nyssa, thank you very much, harbored a tiny little innocent crush on Oliver.

The simple truth was he just had this air of confidence around him. His every move, his every breath was precise and calculated. He pulled people in like a magnet… And these people didn't even have to spend hours upon hours with him... Alone… After hours… In his dark lit office… When he leaned in to point out the particular clause in the contract that grabbed his attention. They didn't have to look into his stormy eyes or be surrounded by the incredible smell of his cologne or aftershave, whatever it was…

Yeah, Felicity was screwed…

 

* * *

 

 “Felicity could you come into my office for a second?” he says, his voice filling the room from the little intercom on her desk phone, his tone somehow both soft and demanding.

Logically Felicity knows she isn't in trouble. She had done nothing wrong, and he specifically mentioned ( _several times_ actually) how much he appreciated her being his assistant. Once he even went as far as calling her his partner in crime, but that’s besides the point.

But there was definitely more to this whole situation… Something about his tone. There was just something about him today that did not sit well with her. And she couldn't quite put a finger on it, but it was there, just under the surface… God, she hated mysteries…

With a quick press of a button and a muttered “Of course, Mister Queen, I'll be right down”, she stands up and straightens her navy flowy blouse and skintight pencil skirt. Absentmindedly, almost out of habit, Felicity grabs her trusty tablet with the QC logo plastered on the back, just in case she has to take some notes, and starts making her way to the shiny glass doors of Oliver’s office, the sound of her heels clicking on the marble floor echoing throughout the office.

 

* * *

 

Felicity doesn't bother sitting down in her usual black chair across his desk. She knows his schedule for the entire month: a whirl of meetings, conferences, international calls, cross-country flights. Rinse and repeat. There is definitely no time for idle chat with his secretary… _God, she hates that word_ … This must be extremely important for Oliver to summon her like that.

“How can I help you Mister Queen?” she asks politely, her curiosity peaking now.

“Please, Felicity, call me Oliver” he insists. He’s done it a million times by now, but she just can't bring herself to cross that particular line in their relationship. Not that there is any relationship outside of the office… Just two colleagues, that’s all.

“You know that Merlyn Global annual gala is tonight” he continues, when Felicity doesn't respond, “And there is absolutely no way for me to get out of it, is there?”

Of course she knows about it! This is one of the biggest events of the year in Starling City and it’s been in his calendar for _months!_ There is also a little fact that Tommy Merlyn is his best friend. So there is absolutely no question that Oliver is expected to be present at that gala. Tuxedo, white crisp shirt, suspenders and all…But she is not thinking about all that…Nope, not at all…

“I’m afraid not, Mister Queen”, she states and Oliver lets an exasperated sigh escape his lips, his hand running through his short clipped hair.

“I need a date, Felicity” he admits, defeated and almost dejected, and she is equal parts confused and amused by this exchange. The man could have a date lined up in about 30 seconds if he wants to. Really, all he needs to do is grab that little black book of his and dial a number… Well, technically it would be just his phone, but that’s semantics. He can literally dial _any_ number and they will be there an hour later. Hell, he can just come up to a total stranger on the street, and they'd agree to accompany him…

A few seconds later it finally dawns on her: Oliver just wants her to set up a date for the gala. Easy. Nothing Felicity can’t handle. She’s done a lot of that over the last couple of months: setting up dates, sending flowers, booking hotel rooms…  

“Who should I contact, Mister Queen?” she asks, already contemplating his possible answers: she knows that McKenna is away on a business trip, Helena is certifiably insane in her humble opinion, but should be available no matter what and Isabel, his latest fling, will be at the gala with Slade Wilson of all people. She is sure there are others, he is Oliver Queen after all, but if he hasn't even told _her_ about them, he won't bother inviting them to the gala either. Sometimes it’s that simple.

It’s his soft voice that brings her back to reality.  “Contact?” he wonders, clearly amused by her confusion. “Felicity” he continues, a small smile gracing his lips, “This is an extremely important night and I need someone I can really trust on this, and believe me I wish I wouldn't have to do this, but can you be my date for tonight?”

The office suddenly falls silent apart from sound of her tablet slipping through her fingers and dropping to the hardwood floors with a low thud.


	2. Chapter 2

“That’s a good one, mister Queen”, she chuckles, bending over to pick the damn tablet only to find that the screen was cracked, covered in a web of tiny fractures scattered across the surface of the glass.  “Really, you almost had me there! For a moment I thought you were being serious”.

She spends the next couple of seconds reassessing the damage to the tablet, and to her defeat she has to admit that the screen is a goner. Damn it! Why is she such a clutz?  Actually no, scratch that! This one is totally on Oliver and his sense of humor!

She finally chances a glance in his direction and the man looks, as he often does in her presence, utterly amused, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Felicity”, he starts, dragging each syllable out, almost tasting how it feels oh his lips and she finally gets it – Oliver wasn't joking! Ruh-roh!

Why is she surprised? No, seriously, why? Can somebody tell her, she really wants to know!

“Yeah, that’s not happening!” she exclaims in what could only be considered her loud voice. “Not a chance, mister! I did not my work my ass off in MIT…”

“I need a Girl Wednesday!” he pleads, but all he manages to do is infuriate her more.

“It’s _Friday_! And the answer is _NO_ ”.

Oliver chuckles at that… Actually chuckles, a huge smile lighting his face…That should seriously be illegal, if it’s not already… “I know it’s _Friday_ , Felicity” he continues, “Contrary to your opinion, I wasn't stranded on the inhospitable island, so I'm all caught up with the cultural references. I just _had_ to see your reaction. Priceless. Just priceless!”.

Great, now he was making fun of her.

And then he goes for a different tactic.  Apparently bribing dates… Not that this would be a date of any kind… except it’s a date on the calendar. But it’s not that kind of the _date_ date… Come on, Felicity, get it together, will ya? So apparently bribing the completely platonic work mandated dates was Oliver’s go to move, because the next words he utters are: “How about that software… thingy… that you wanted?”

“The GFX350?” she asks, her curiosity peaking.

“Yeah, that’s the one… I think”. The look on his face is adorable and the thought of Oliver Queen being confused was somehow comforting. “I’ll get it for you” he murmurs seconds later.

“You will get a highly powered, extremely expensive, military grade software system… for your executive assistant… just so she would go to a gala with you?”

His response throws her completely off guard. “Why not?”…

Why not?!

Oh, to hell with it, if her boss wants to spend thousands upon thousands of dollars on something like this, well who is she to stop him?

And it has absolutely nothing to do with his blue eyes, thanks for asking. _Nothing!_

 

* * *

 

 She is supposed to be a genius, and for the most part she was. Today though was not her day apparently. Why on earth did she agree for him to pick her up at 8 pm? That’s not _nearly_ enough time! Actually, while she was at it, why did she agree to this charade at all?

Oh yeah, GFX350…

Yeah, let’s go with that, Felicity! Denial isn't just a river in Egypt, is it? And now she was talking to herself… In clichés no less… She was pretty sure she hasn't hit rock bottom yet, but it was definitely somewhere close by.

Still, for the first time in her life she thanked the Universe for her love of shopping. Some might call it an obsession, but who cares. All that matters today is that she has the perfect dress for the occasion: the teal floor-length silk gown with an asymmetrical neckline has been hanging in her closet for over a month now, but she could never find a right moment to wear it… Until now…

Alright, alright, maybe she was a little excited! Who would have thought that the simple Vegas girl like her could ever attend Merlyn Global annual gala… With Oliver Queen no less… So sue her, she was excited! Just a tiny bit though…

Felicity is half way through curling her hair when a loud shrill of her phone catches her completely off-guard, her fingers nearly slipping onto the hot surface of the curling iron.

“Hey, Sara” she almost yells already putting one of her best friends on speaker and battling her hair at the same time.

“Hey there, Smoaky”, it’s an old joke really… Too old, if you ask her… All it takes is one fire alarm going off and a single party being stopped by the angry firefighters and the nickname stays with you for years apparently.

“I can't really talk at the moment”, Felicity confesses, “Ten more minutes and I will be completely and utterly late”.

She can practically feel Sara’s excitement growing through the phone. That’s not good. God, that’s not good at all…

“And where would you, miss, be going at such a late hour?”

Her tone is laced with sarcasm, it’s only 8 pm after all, but Felicity can also sense the curiosity practically radiating from the little device. And to be fair she is kinda stuck between a rock and a hard place: tell the truth and be subjected to hours of interrogation by her friend or lie and pray that there will be no paparazzi at the gala…

So Felicity does the unthinkable and utters the first thing that pops into her mind, “I'm just going out to the movies with Caitlin”.

The disbelief on the other end of the line is almost palpable. But she can not back down now. The loud knock on the door saves Felicity from the inescapable ‘truth zone’… At least for now… “This is probably her”, she lies through her teeth, “I have to go now. Talk to you soon…”

Lying to your best friends, no matter how necessary, sucks, Felicity decides.

She opens the door with all the confidence of the porcupine at the balloon party, and there he is, a perfect gentleman in a tailored suit and crisp shirt. He might have been the Prince Charming really, if he were _way_ less ragged and didn't sleep with so many women. But then there were his eyes… His looks, his body, although impressive, didn't get to her nearly as much as his eyes did. A true reflection of his soul – kind, clear, attentive… Just Oliver…

She grabs a pair of black leather cross strap high heels, trying to distract herself,  and catches him staring out of the corner of her eye.

“You look...”, Oliver whispers, trying to gain his composure, “You look amazing, Felicity!”

She isn't sure where _that_ comes from or why he sounds so breathless, but it doesn't even matter now. Her screen lights up, illuminating the hallway, signaling incoming message:

**_Sara Lance: Just so you know, I’m currently with Caitlin at Starlabs working on the new costume design. Have fun at the Gala. _ **

Oh she was so busted…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you SO much for the wonderful feedback on the first chapter.  
> Without you it wouldn't even exist.
> 
> Second of all, thanks for reading. Usually I have a plan for the story, not this time around though. The story kinda takes me where it takes me. So let me know what you think and what you want to read next.
> 
> And again, thank you so much for all the comments and kudos. Without you I would probably just left this in the depths of my hard drive. 
> 
> If you're so inclined, check out my Tumblr as well http://mercilesscupid.tumblr.com/
> 
> Have a great day, you wonderful human being!


	3. Chapter 3

A few seconds tick by before Felicity finally puts the phone down into her little black and gold clutch bag, deciding against replying to her friend’s message altogether. What is there to say, really?

She doesn’t quite know _how_ Sara found out about the gala, but then again Sara always knows everything about everyone. For all Felicity knows, she may be a part of some super-secret spy organization or a Greek Goddess, and can probably read people’s minds. Actually, now that Felicity thinks about it, she is definitely both.

Of course Sara will understand, she muses to herself, that’s what best friends are for – they know you better than anyone, they accept you for who you are and they forgive all you shortcomings… They will also mock you at the very chance they get for the next two to six months… At least…

Damn you, Oliver Queen!

His soft voice is what brings Felicity out of her reverie. The night has not even started and she can already feel a faint blush tinting her cheeks.

“So, should we go?” he suggests tentatively, “Wouldn’t want to keep Dig waiting, would we?”

Oh, they definitely would not! Oliver’s trusty bodyguard, as much of a sweetheart that he is, could be incredibly intimidating when he’s annoyed… In fact, the very first time she met the guy, Felicity made a mental promise to herself never to get on his bad side. _Ever!_ Thank God he seemed to have somewhat of a soft spot for her.

“Yeah, let’s do it. I personally take great pride at never coming late” she agrees, already grabbing her purse and keys. And then her brain finally processes what she just said! _Seriously Felicity, what the hell is wrong with you?!_

Her eyes dart up to meet Oliver’s, his lips curled up in a wide smile, making him look that much younger and carefree... No wonder women practically fall into bed with him the second they meet him, she thinks to herself.

 “I mean…” she starts, but is almost instantly interrupted by Oliver.

“I know what you mean, Felicity”, he tells her, not bothering to make any further comments, already making his way to the front door. Well, she only makes some weird innuendos, like this little gem right here, at least million times a week. Perhaps, he is used to it by now...

* * *

 

Oliver has been attending parties just like this one ever since he was twelve. Not voluntarily, of course, his mother had to practically drag him away from his video games and out of Queen Mansion and into whatever venue this or that gala, fundraiser, opening or ball was held at. Needless to say, he was never a fan - they were boring as hell fifteen years ago, and they were still boring now… The only difference - now he gets to drink, and as he discovered, champagne is excellent at dulling the misery.

All those bleak uneventful evenings, however, were not spent in vain. By now Oliver has created his own perfect formula for making such events at least somewhat bearable: bourbon, absolutely no dancing, no sneaking away with random girls and being discreet (in case you _do_ decide to sneak away with some random girl). Since he became the CEO of Queen Consolidated, he has also added “talking to at least three investors” and “avoiding their overly enthusiastic wives” to that list. Sometimes the last one was practically impossible to do.

So Oliver decided to take a path of least resistance and got himself a date. He doesn’t know what made him ask Felicity, aside from the fact that she is smart, cute, funny and loyal. The girl constantly surprises him, catches him off guard. But most importantly, he can be himself around her, God knows they’ve spent endless hours in his office looking through documents or preparing for the next board meeting. He simply trusts her. She is one of a few people he can truly call a friend… Does he really need more reasons?

And just looking at her right now makes him realize that he made a right choice. Her smile is bright and contagious, lighting up the whole room, as she is making small talk with one of the board members.

He wasn’t lying when he said she looked amazing. Felicity is always beautiful, but her look tonight is something else completely. The dress, so simple yet elegant, highlights her feminine figure and makes her eyes just a shade darker than normal. She traded her trusty glasses for contacts and her signature ponytail for loose curls, her golden hair cascading down her shoulders…

“Hello? Earth to Oliver?!” she teases and Oliver suddenly realizes that she must have asked him a question. And judging by the death stare she is currently giving him, she asked it more than once.

“No”, he blurts the first thing that comes to mind, praying to God that it was at least a ‘yes or no’ question. When in doubt – wing it. Apparently that was Oliver Queen’s motto for today.

That might have been a wrong decision, he realizes suddenly, as Felicity narrows her eyes in suspicion and pokes him smack in the middle of his chest. “Uh-huh! I knew you weren’t listening”, she exclaims, her look triumphant. The girl’s need to be always right is somehow endearing. He would have argued, but he knows a lost cause when he sees one.

“I was just letting you know that your girlfriend is here”, Felicity continues, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the main entrance.

Isobel, of course… And the evening was going so great up until now…

“She’s… She is _not_ my girlfriend, Felicity” he finally stutters. Yes, they had a fling, a very brief, meaningless fling. Oliver blamed Vegas and alcohol, lots and lots of alcohol. But she was definitely not his girlfriend.

“Well, ‘the girl you occasionally sleep with and then pretend like nothing happened’ seemed a bit too long, so I went with the ‘girlfriend’”. Apparently champagne makes Felicity bold. His girl Wednesday would have been a babbling mess by now, if she was sober, but add a couple of glasses of bubbly and the result is glorious. He could not see even a hint of embarrassment, just a soft blush spreading across her cheeks.

“You should go, say hi, make small talk, chat about weather or something... Isobel is the vice president after all”, she encourages, almost pushing him in the direction of the grand entrance.

She is right of course. He hates it, but she is right ( _as always,_ his mind offers). So he squares his shoulders, plasters his most charming but nonetheless fake smile and marches towards the petite brunette and her companion.

* * *

 

Half an hour passes by, the minutes ticking by torturously slowly. Felicity catches glimpses of Oliver across the room, talking to investors, chatting with Slade Wilson and Isobel, misery written all over his face. He is bored, she knows he is, his eyes pleading with her to come and join him. And she would, except she has no desire to come anywhere near the she-devil. The woman ruins her life five days a week and she has no intention of giving her the pleasure to ruin this evening as well.

She mingles for a while, having a friendly chat with Mrs. Bowen, whose Universe seems to start and end with her son, Carter. Seriously, if all the stories, the lady managed to tell Felicity in a short span of twenty minutes are true, the guy is so perfectly perfect that he might actually be an alien trying to take over the world and establish the dominance of their superior civilization on Earth… She dances with a completely adorable guy named Barry, who is cute and funny, and they would be great together, except there is no… spark… And she can’t stop thinking that he would totally hit it off with Caitlin. They are so similar, both smart and career driven, and yet so different. There’s also a fact that he is a _horrible_ dancer _(no, really, her feet might never recover)_ , and Caitlin could not sing for the life of her. The match made in heaven, if you ask her.

Felicity is so lost in though, that she doesn’t see him approach her and when the familiar voice finally hits her ears, she can’t help but grin, the smile illuminating her face.

 “May I have this dance, milady?”

_Oh, how could she say ‘no’ to that?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, thank you so much for the continued support for this story. It means A LOT.  
> Every comment is like a little Christmas or birthday present. You guys are awesome.
> 
> This chapter was so far the hardest, especially Oliver's POV. But now I kinda have the next two chapters planned out, which is a progress, I guess. 
> 
> Drop a comment and let me know what were your thoughts on the chapter and on especially on Oliver's POV part.
> 
> If you're so inclined, check out my Tumblr as well http://mercilesscupid.tumblr.com/
> 
> Have a great day, you wonderful human being!


	4. Chapter 4

_“May I have this dance, milady?”_

_Oh, how could she say ‘no’ to that?_

He is standing a couple of feet away from her at the very edge of the dancefloor, his hand extended in a silent invitation, which she accepts without hesitation.  And boy, does he look handsome in his perfectly tailored suit, tie hanging loose around his neck, the top two buttons of his shirt undone and a carefree smile donning his face. Comfortable silence envelops them like a bubble as they sway to a gentle rhythm of classical music.

Tommy Merlyn… A billionaire playboy, serial womanizer and, coincidentally, one of Felicity’s closest friends. She can’t quite pinpoint the exact moment when her life changed so utterly and completely, that she started casually hanging out with one of the richest and most famous heirs to gigantic corporate empires. It was hard not to though, Tommy was always so easygoing, so fun, yet, and that surprised her most of all, somehow reliable. A person you could always count on.

Felicity never cared about his status or the balance of his bank account, and maybe that’s why he was so open with her. People always wanted something from him: money, opportunities, fame, the list goes on and on and on… And all she ever needed was his friendship, his trust and, occasionally, his advice. Perhaps, in some ways their friendship was just as unusual for him as it was for her.

Of course she knew Tommy would be here, it’s his family’s gala after all, she just wasn’t sure whether he’d have time to come and chat with her – there were _a lot_ of supermodels hanging round the mansion today after all. It was a nice little surprise though. If it wasn’t for his timely arrival her toes would definitely need to be amputated.

“You’re welcome”, he smirks and it could only mean one thing – she said it out loud. _Of course_ she did. Felicity can’t even bring herself to be embarrassed – it’s Tommy… He’s heard innuendos way worse than this one anyway and is used to her nonexistent brain-to-mouth filter by now, and judging by his reactions – he loves it almost as much as she hates it... Almost...

“Did I say that out loud?” she asks, still praying for a miracle.

The breathy chuckle is all the response she needs really, “Just the toe amputation part”. Oh, you know what they say about hope – brings eternal misery. On the other hand, it could have been _way_ worse. On a scale from one to eternal embarrassment this barely even registers.

“And who was that fine gentlemen, might I ask?” he continues, trying just a little bit too hard to be nonchalant about it.

“What’s the matter, Thomas, are you jealous?!” she teases, swatting his shoulder lightly and realizing her mistake almost instantly when his eyes light up with a mixture of excitement and mischief, that would leave Fred and George Weasley proud (not that Tommy, bless his muggle soul, had any idea who Fred and George were). Yep, he’s not gonna let her live this down for the rest of the night, is he?

“Why of course I am! He is so cute! I can’t believe you got to him first!”, he responds enthusiastically, his tone laced with sarcasm.

“Well, you snooze – you lose”. Yeah, that comeback is lame, she knows… Felicity will deny it to her last breath, but she swears she can actually feel herself turning into a five year old, when Tommy is around. It’s impossible not to! Literally! _Literally!_ She tried to be completely serious and professional around him once, when he had an appointment with Oliver at Queen Consolidated and that lasted about three whole minutes before she almost choked on her coffee ad stormed out of the office… Well, alright, alright... A minute and a half tops…But realistically, there is not a single person on the planet that would have been able to keep a straight face when Tommy mimed all the various ways he could kill himself behind Oliver’s back during one of his “let’s talk about the future of Queen Consolidated’ speeches.

“Oh, Smoak, you have so much to learn”, he exclaims, gracefully guiding them across the dancefloor, only stopping to twirl her around, making her head spin. “This was but a single battle… The war has not been lost yet!” he whispers dramatically, already leading her off the dance floor and in the general direction of the now almost empty bar.

“Seriously, who’s the guy?” he asks, as they are waiting for the bartender to prepare their extremely-complicated drinks. Apparently while she was buried in her textbooks and lecture notes at MIT, someone has invented and perfected drinks that probably contained most, if not all of the Periodic Table. She usually orders red wine and Tommy’s poison of choice is bourbon, but on the nights like these nothing short of fancy would be acceptable, so Felicity steps out of her comfort zone and accepts her tall glass filled to the brink with a handful of ice cubes, bright blue liquid and topped with a maraschino cherry.

“It’s just Barry… Barry Allen”, she offers vaguely, taking a sip of her cocktail.

“Well if Barry… Barry Allen knows what’s good for him, he should definitely avoid bumping into our buddy Oliver over there”.

 _Wait, what?!_ Alert the media, Tommy Merlyn has officially lost his mind.

“What on God’s green Earth are you talking about, Merlyn? “ she finally asks, trying (and failing miserably) to hide her confusion, which only seems to entertain the man even more.

“Oh, Smoaky, if looks could kill, Barry would have been dead after your first awkward dance…  Only to be resurrected during the second one and killed again during the third one just for good measure”.

 “Hey! It wasn’t awkward!” she interrupts. Yes, it was, but Felicity won’t _ever_ admit that to anyone.

“Whatever you say, princess”, he responds placing his now empty glass on the bar, “This party blows by the way! You, me, Verdant, now. What do you say?”. Leave it to Tommy to sneak away from his own family function. “I’ll even rescue Oliver from the paws of the she-devil”, he adds noticing her hesitation.

“And what about all those models? How will they ever get another chance to become the next missis Merlyn, if you just up and leave?” she whispers.

“Well, now that you’ve mentioned it, the models are _definitely_ coming with us, Smoaky!”

* * *

 

 Too loud… That’s it… That’s the very first thought that pops into her mind, closely followed by ‘It’s too bright’ and finally ‘Please make the world stop spinning, I’m begging you!” … Of course Felicity tries her best to ignore it all and go back to sleep, surrounded by the sheets so soft she could be sleeping on an actual cloud and a mountain of fluffy pillows, but despite her best efforts, she can still hear the persistent chime of her cellphone loud and clear.

She prays for it to magically go away and asks the Google gods to just drain her battery, but it doesn’t stop… Not even for a second! Seriously, how could one little device be so annoying?

Felicity picks up her glasses and phone from the nightstand just to her right, ignoring the headache that suddenly hits her, and concentrating on the messages currently displayed on her screen.

**_Tommy Merlyn: Told ya we could top Vegas, baby!_ **

**_Sara Lance: That’s certainly one way to have fun at the Gala, Smoak!_ **

**_Donna Smoak: Just saw your photos on TMZ this morning... Care to explain, dear?!_ **

…

Oh dear god… No… No no no no no…

Please somebody pinch her and tell her that this is all a nightmare!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that took waaay too long to write. 
> 
> I can not thank you guys enough for reading, subscribing, leaving kudos and commenting on this story. You're the best. Like, seriously, I dare you to find better people on this damned planet circling the Sun.. Ya'll are too kind to me!
> 
> Next time on Love Runs Out: What happens in Verdant stays in Verdant... Or does it?  
> Spoiler alert: It doesn't.
> 
> See that Comment button right there? Don't let all the hard work some guy (or girl) put into it,go to waste and drop a comment. That will make my day. 
> 
> If you're so inclined, check out my Tumblr as well http://mercilesscupid.tumblr.com/  
> My askbox is always open. 
> 
> Have a great day, you wonderful human being!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have updated the rating to Teen and Up, due to some very mild coarse language in this chapter.

_ Saturday 09:45 AM _

He wakes up with a start, desperately trying to ignore his alarm clock going off somewhere nearby, covering his ears with a fluffy pillow. Was it childish? Perhaps… Was it effective? Not so much!  Oliver could still clearly discern every little beep the damned clock made, could practically feel slight vibrations rattling through the little device, bringing it closer to the edge of the nightstand. To say that the desire to smack the off button and go back to sleep is strong – is to say nothing. It’s Saturday, for God’s sake, and he has certainly earned a day off for all the long and extremely boring meetings he had to sit through in the last couple of days, but he has been promising Thea he’d have brunch with her for about four weeks in a row now and bailing out at the last minute for three of them… His sister may be just a tiny teenager, but tiny tornadoes are _still_ tornadoes! She is smart and resourceful and her revenge is usually as elaborate as it is long-lasting… Is Oliver Queen, a grown man and the CEO of Fortune 500 company terrified of his baby sister? Pfft, no! Will he do exactly what she tells him to do today? You bet!

He manages to get out of bed, simultaneously switching off the alarm clock and going through his nightstand drawer, hoping to find a stray bottle of aspirin, or Advil, or at this point, pretty much anything that starts with an ‘a’ and looks remotely like a painkiller.

There is nothing…

_Nada…_

Apparently, today is not Oliver’s day.

A quick look at the clock lets him know it’s almost ten A.M., which means that Thea will be barging into his room pretty soon, dragging him through the door and into the world, so it’s better to get ready now, since Thea Queen does not subscribe to the idea that patience is a virtue. Especially where brunch is concerned.

He spends the next fifteen minutes in the shower, icy water doing little to sooth his headache or relax his tense muscles, but succeeding in waking him up at last. Grabbing a towel, Oliver steps out of the shower stall, drying himself and wrapping the towel around his hips. He hasn’t shaven in a couple of days and his stubble is starting to look more and more like a beard, so he reaches for trimmer and finally takes a look in the mirror… He looks like hell: his eyes are red and puffy, skin paler than usual, his stubble (as suspected) is out of control… He’d say it couldn’t get much worse than that, but then he notices it, a tiny red mark right on the juncture of his neck and left collarbone… He brings his hand up and touches the spot with the tips of his fingers, as if to see that it’s real…  A hickey…. He has a hickey…

What the actual hell?

Oliver barges back into his room, still clutching the trimmer in his hand, searching for his phone, which is probably still in his pocket. He finds his suit in a matter of seconds, discarded haphazardly on the floor, and rummages through every pocket until he notices a single lipstick stain, stark red against the white fabric of the shirt he wore to the gala. 

He recognizes the shade instantly… And the memories of last night come back in quick succession, assaulting his brain with images, smells and sounds… He suddenly clearly remembers _everything_ that happened at Verdant just a couple of hours ago…

_Shit!_

* * *

 

_ Friday  11:45 PM _

Oliver arrives at Verdant just before midnight, greeting the security guard and skipping the queue outside. The club is packed, loud music bursting through the speakers, strobe lights illuminating the dancefloor, the crowd moving with the rhythm of the song, and throwing their hands in the air. It’s their escape from their jobs, from their responsibilities, from their lives. They come here to relax, to be completely free, and he can’t help but wish he could do that just for one night.

He bottles up all the grim thoughts and makes his away upstairs to the VIP lounge, where he knows he’ll find both Tommy and Felicity. Or at least he tries to… Oliver Queen at a night club is a rare sight these days and pretty much every girl he passes by on the dancefloor tries to grab his attention in some way or another.  And if it were any other night, he might have given them his time of the day, but he is exhausted and somehow pumped up with adrenalin at the same time, and he just wants to get to his friends and get a chance to wind down with a glass of whiskey or a shot of vodka.

He finally finds them a couple minutes later in the dark, secluded corner at back of the room, where the tall booth offers privacy and the music is not as loud. Apparently he missed a lot in the past hour and a half, as the table is littered with shot glasses and lemon slices, and their pupils are dilated to the point you can barely see the irises anymore and you don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to realize that they are both absolutely smashed!And whilst he had expected this from Tommy, but Felicity? That’s new.

Oliver hasn’t seen his assistant drunk _once_ in the past six months, which he considers to be a small miracle since she became fast friends with Tommy, who still parties like there is no tomorrow pretty much every Friday… At first he was baffled by their friendship: those two could not be more different from each other, what did they even talk about? It was beyond him. And then Oliver got angry… Thomas Merlyn was his best friend since elementary school, Oliver knew him in and out, and he was definitely aware of his track record with women! It took both Tommy and Felicity about two weeks to convince him there was nothing romantic going on between them… And if he was honest with himself, the suspicion stayed with him for another month anyway!

It takes a couple of seconds until Tommy finally notices him approaching and waves enthusiastically in his direction.

“Buddy! You made it!” his friend shouts over the music, already standing up to give him a sloppy hug and a pat on the back.

“I see the party is in full swing, guys”, he responds, measuring both of them with a look.

As if reading Oliver’s mind Tommy briefly glances at the table and three scantily clad models sitting at his sides. “Oh yeah, it was all Felicity’s idea!” he exclaims.

“I’m sure it was” is Oliver’s quiet response, as he looks at his Girl Wednesday, a small smile tugging on his lips. Somehow the tension he felt mere minutes ago just isn’t there anymore.

 

***

_ Saturday 01:00 AM _

Barry Allen… That’s the kid’s name, as Tommy, oh so helpfully, informs him. He arrived not long after Oliver did and apologized profusely for being late, making Felicity smile and assure him that it was not a big deal. He has barely left her side since then, the two of them engaged in a lively discussion about some scientific concept Oliver would never understand in a million years.

Oliver recognizes the kid instantly, he was the one who danced with Felicity at the Gala, the one who made her wince as he stepped on her toes (and made her laugh, but that was completely beside the point)… The guy barely looks over eighteen for God’s sake! Is he even allowed to be in the club?  Would calling security to check his ID be an overkill?

His mood is absolutely ruined and somehow even one of the models (he thinks her name is Casey, but he wasn’t really paying attention) flirting with him doesn’t help. So Oliver just orders another glass of bourbon and leaves it at that.

 

***

_ Saturday 02:30 AM _

He thought that the party would have died down by now, the crowd disappearing into the night, but apparently he was dead wrong. The music is still blasting through the speakers, crowd still dancing on the floor, alcohol being poured. And he is happy for Tommy, he really is! His best friend’s business is thriving! What’s not to be happy about? …Apart from his Felicity and the kid having the time of their lives on the dancefloor for the past twenty minutes, everything is peachy keen! Wait! _His_ Felicity?

“How about a little game of Truth or Date?” he hears Tommy say and he can’t believe his ears! _What are they, twelve?!_  “Common, Ollie, it’ll be fun”, his friend continues and Casey is practically jumping up and down with excitement…  Oliver honestly can’t imagine the world or reality where playing Truth or Dare would be even remotely fun, but Tommy is currently doing his best version of puppy eyes while slightly nudging his head towards a petite brunette named Nicky, who has been flirting with him all night, practically begging him to agree. Resistance is futile!

For the next twenty minutes Oliver watches the group and learns way too much about the girls than he anticipated. Apparently, Melissa is not opposed to threesomes ( _Shocker!_ ), Nicole has had sex at the movie theater once and Casey has seven piercings on her body. The dares range from taking three shots of tequila to licking someone’s bellybutton, which Tommy does with great pleasure. Oliver still wouldn’t call it ‘fun’, but he has to admit it’s not as awful as he first thought it would be, and it has an upside of taking his mind off a certain blonde dancing downstairs. That is until the group (at Tommy’s insistence of course) collectively and unanimously decides that he has chosen to tell the truth too many times and Casey dares him to kiss a girl in the club, clearly meaning herself, but Oliver spots Barry’s arms circling Felicity’s waist out of the corner of his eyes.

He makes his way to the couple in record time, taking two stairs at a time, and Felicity waves at him, smiling as she takes a step in his direction. She is flushed from the dancing, a soft blush donning her cheeks, her lips parted slightly, and he has to convince himself that he is only doing this for a stupid dare, nothing else. “Olive...” she starts excitedly, as he takes a final step towards her, but he doesn’t let her finish, grabbing her face and placing a tender kiss oh her full lips. He meant for it to be just a quick peck, but as he feels her lips moving against his, all conscious thoughts leave his mind and all he can concentrate on is the way she feels pressed against him, the softness of her hair, the smell of her perfume. He loses track of time and suddenly the whole world around them seizes to exist. It’s overwhelming… It’s too much… It’s not enough…

A bright flash going off brings Oliver back to reality and he takes a step back, opening his eyes to see a shocked Barry Allen staring at both of them with barely contained curiosity, and a couple of girls taking pictures on their cellphones. _Yeah, he didn’t think that one through, did he now!_

“What the hell?” she asks loudly, trying to shout over the music.

“Not here, Felicity” he offers, taking her hand and leading them towards the back, where he knows Tommy’s office is located. It’s only a short walk, 50 feet at most, but to Oliver it feels like eternity. Seriously, what was he thinking?  He punches in the code on the electronic lock to the office that Felicity has installed a couple of months ago, and leads her into the dark lit room, closing the door behind them.

“Care to explain, Oliver?” she demands.

“If only I knew that this was all it took for you to stop calling me Mr Queen, I would have kissed you months ago” he blurts out, trying to dissolve some tension, but judging by the murderous look Felicity is currently giving him, it doesn’t work too well. “Look, it was a stupid dare. If you want to blame anyone, blame Tommy! He started it!” It may have been a mistake, he realizes, as Felicity starts to tap her foot on the floor.

“What are you, five? Because that’s when the ‘he started it’ excuse loses its credibility! Besides, _Tommy_ didn’t kiss me!” she hisses, scoffing at him. And if the thought of Tommy kissing Felicity makes Oliver irrationally angry, well that doesn’t mean anything!

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, Felicity! How about I take you home? It’s getting pretty late!” he suggests.

“Oh nooo, mister, I’m going back in that VIP room, and drinking shots until I forget _this_ ever happened”, she answers waiving her hand between the two of them, before opening the door and stepping into the club.

Yeah, forgetting this ever happened sounds like a great idea, he decides following her back upstairs.

* * *

 

_ Saturday 10:20 AM _

He hears someone approaching his room shortly followed by an overly enthusiastic knock on his door. “Ollie, are you ready for brunch?”, his sister asks enthusiastically. Well, at least one person is in a good mood…

“Yes, Speedy, I’m almost done. I’ll be down in ten minutes”…

Screw the beard, he doesn’t feel like shaving anymore. He needs to get through that brunch as quickly as possible and then go kill one Tommy Merlyn. So the beard will come in handy when he is in prison!

“Alrighty! Don’t take too long, Ollie! I can’t wait to hear why my brother’s photo is on the cover of a trashy magazine again!”

_Shit!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can not thank you guys enough for the continuous support of this story. Sending you all +10 to your karma balance via a PayPal transfer.
> 
> This chapter is way longer than I anticipated, but I regret nothing (and I hope neither do you).  
> Hope you liked it, and if you did - drop me a comment. Their fill my soul with eternal happiness.
> 
> If you're so inclined, check out my Tumblr as well http://mercilesscupid.tumblr.com/  
> My askbox is always open.
> 
> Have a great day, you wonderful human being!


End file.
